


;;-->> Son of Rusalka

by Black



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Body Horror, Gift, Playing off the son of rusalka NPC dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black
Summary: who is Adam Jensen?not you, son of Rusalka.





	;;-->> Son of Rusalka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anomalee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anomalee/gifts).



> I wrote this awhiiiile ago as a gift for Anomalee and their Adam - fixated around the dialogue of that one spooky NPC we all know and love. 
> 
> I was thinking about it the other day and how I hadn't posted it on here. 
> 
> So here you go. To my favorite fucked up boy and the thought he never came back exactly the same.

_**I dreamed we had drowned in the hopes of humanity.** _

Adam stares at his hands.   
Detailed and shining, rolling in the waves and there’s a gush of water from their delicate joints. hold it together. hold it together. he’s in his office and he’s hunched over his desk and it’s heaping all over his paperwork and smudging the fucking ink the paper the electronics are wheezing and

there are people walking by as if he’s fine. talking to him. addressing him. eyes flickering to the notion of aug is here on the board and he wants to hold up his ocean hands and ask them if they -

sea, the sea -  
ate him whole and spit him out.

no, no.

rewrite his story.  
sea, the sea -  
ate him whole and they pulled him up.

silent in mourning the seagulls cried over his dead body - salted and sewn shut again when they had toyed with his pretty spine and set it on fire a multitude of times. who is Adam Jensen?

not you, son of Rusalka.

_**You were there.** _

stare into the mirror and tell me you see the scales - lining your shoulders and your neck. ripped from their sockets and neatly placed again. stained black and baring teeth. can you look yourself in the eyes?

who do you see there?

but who is in the box - Adam runs his pretty fingers along the length of the glass and there’s a bubbling laugh mangled in his throat because at first there was fire and then there was ice, lodged under his skin and threaded thick.

they gave you scales -  
Sarif gave you wings.

they gave you hands that vomit water and your bedroom is flooded - icarus had drowned and clawed his way up to the surface. his wings had melted. yours wrapped your legs.

pale, cold, and empty.

feathers had anchored into scales, white and waxy as they fanned gorgeous against your augs. swallowing black. swallowing gold. Adam’s eyes ached wildly as he found himself sinking. sinking.

Into the dark below.

_**That’s where they have kept you.** _

in bed. here. there. wrapped in a hospital gown and it’s torn away and they’re ripping the flesh from your legs and exposing the bone. the aug. where have the scales gone? feathered to the floor and

you’re pulling your sheets, tugging in agony as your eyes open to your tall ceiling and your HUD is muttering about your heart rate and you can’t stop this. a spiral. to the seafloor and your lungs are filling now. have you scales? have you gills?

have you ideals?

have you -

opened your skin?

he stares through you. his eyes are the sea. endless. empty. bobbing as he mutters his words. _Son of Rusalka_ \- your heart is nostalgic. how does that hold you, sweetly? in terror? glass arms wrap around your waist and your belly bleeds sick.

laying amongst the sand and it’s caught in your teeth.

_**You were there.** _

Adam Jensen died on the ocean floor and they pulled you out. kept his name and his image and you keep trying to tell yourself that you’re more than just some water spirit spat back into society and you’re trying so hard to be human - aren’t you?

walking, talking, justice laced and  
pale and cold and

empty are their eyes.

they pass you on the streets.  
they stare at you in the mirror.  
they look at your water bloodied hands and ask about

some report you haven’t bothered to touch.

he can’t hold it -  
together. dreaming.

at the bottom of the deep sea, drowning in the hopes of humanity.


End file.
